by Claudy Conn
He had to stop this. He broke the spell of the moment with a chuckle and said, “Well, as to the huge sarsen stones, it is said that when these were brought so many centuries upon centuries ago, a waterway ran through this valley.”
“How do you know all that?” she asked, surprised.
“My mother brought me here once when I was a boy,” he said softly. “But that memory has faded, and now only this one will remain uppermost in my mind.”
She laughed outright. “Your flattery is outrageous.”
“Not flattery, m’bonnie lass.” He eyed her meaningfully, and even as he did so he chastised himself. He was doing exactly what he had told himself he would not do—he was getting in too deep.
A moment later, he called out to Robby that it was indeed time to get some lunch. Some amiable jesting ensued before the earl meandered to the guide and slipped him a coin and a sincere thanks for his efforts.
He led his party away from the growing number of tourists and smiled to himself. He found that all the balls and routs he had attended in London were nothing compared to the last couple of days he had spent. Why was that?
At twenty-nine he was older than even Robby by a number of years. He was nine years older than Lady Bess—was that too old for her? Why had such a thought entered his head? What did it matter? He was only extending friendship, nothing more.
* * *
Sally Sonhurst stood at the window of her elegantly furnished morning room and looked at her courtyard gardens without really seeing them.
Life had used her poorly early on, but she had learned how to survive. She had learned what was important. She was important. She had to look out for herself at all times—and at all cost.
Her father had married her off to an aged, wicked, and licentious man in order to pay off his gaming debts. She had endured the old man’s odious groping for an entire year before she realized what she was capable of accomplishing.
Providence had sent her the most unlikely of gentlemen to be her lover. At two and twenty he had been only a year older than she. He had an appetite for running with Prinny’s set and thus needed a ready flow of funds, funds he did not have. She did not have ready access to her aged husband’s money, but he did provide her with an allowance. She gave her lover that allowance with the promise of more to come when the deed was done.
The arrangement they struck up would benefit them both.
He had told her that the drug they needed was most innocuous and therefore would never bring down suspicion. She already had it on hand, but he purchased some in his own name and gave it to her so that hers would not appear overly used. It was one that every household had on hand: laudanum.
She had already been giving her husband the drug. At first her intentions had been only to make him sleep so he would not visit her room at night. And then, one particular day when she was in her sitting room reading and he came in and began to grope her, she knew she couldn’t bear him any longer. That very night, she gave him a lethal dose and stood there watching as he writhed and choked and died. Surprise at her lack of remorse, surprise at her lack of sympathy for his suffering made her realize what she was capable of doing. She often wondered after that if she could, in fact, ever love anyone.
Her husband was elderly, and she advised the doctor that he had been taking laudanum to help him sleep. No one thought anything about it, and life for her became glorious. How could it not? She was free, she was wealthy, and she was titled. She already traveled with Prinny and his set due to her husband’s friendship with the Prince Regent. What more could a woman want?
Then the Earl of Dunkirk entered her world. When she looked at him, she did think for a time she could love a man. However, she brought the feeling under control. Emotions could ruin her, and she liked her life just the way it was. However, she did want him, wanted him from the moment she saw him. And so, she set out to seduce him. It was easily done. He was a passionate man and proved to be everything she could want in a lover. He met her every need, every desire.
However, the sorry fact was that he was a confirmed bachelor. She was determined to change that fact and had been working to achieve her goal, but as of late he seemed to grow more distant.
At one time, she thought perhaps she could bring him up to scratch. It felt as though he were getting close to proposing, and then suddenly he withdrew, as though he had looked into her soul and been repulsed. It was a fanciful thought, nonsensical, and she put it away. He couldn’t know, really know her. He couldn’t know what she was capable of, and she felt no guilt, no remorse whatsoever for what she had done. What she had done was survive.
She had decided to take a little time off from him to hatch another plan, a plan which would require her ‘helper’ to bring it to a successful conclusion.
He partner in crime would be eager; he was a pretty dandy and always in debt. He would welcome the opportunity to earn the blunt he needed to go on in the lifestyle to which he was accustomed, and she now had access to all the funds she could ever need.
The door to her morning room opened, and her butler announced a familiar and very close friend.
A tall and lanky man whose fashion was designed to make him stand out walked into the room. He was not exactly attractive, and some even thought him a fop, but for some reason she rather liked being in his company. His lovemaking was, though rough at times, quite exciting. He knew how to please her.
She smiled a warm welcome, as theirs had been a mutually beneficial friendship that she enjoyed even though they were no longer lovers. “Darling,” she said as he squeezed her fingers gently.
“Darling, indeed … now what is all of this?” he answered and brushed a kiss on her bare wrist.
“Sit with me, and I shall explain my plan. It will take some doing and finesse.”
“I am capable of both,” he answered as he took her to the sofa and saw her seated. He sat beside her and tilted her chin. “Have you a kiss for an old friend, my sweet lovely?”
She did, in fact, and came away from his luscious lips to tap his chest and murmur, “Later, after you understand what I need.”
“Ah, I already have a notion of what you need, but you pique my curiosity, for I haven’t a notion how I can help you obtain it. The earl could be a dangerous enemy I don’t wish to have.”
“Understood, but my plan takes care of you as well. He will never know your part, because you will hire the right sort to accomplish what I need, and thus, you may remain unseen.”
“You intrigue me—go on,” the dandy said.
“Needless to say, I shall be generous and cover all your expenses,” she said as her fingers walked up his lapel and touched his lips.
“Understood.” He kissed those fingers.
She smiled. “You will have to be discreet when hiring your men. They must not know who you are. I don’t want this chasing us.”
“Just what are we about to do?” he asked, his fine brow arched quizzically.
“Why, I am going to marry the Earl of Dunkirk, willy nilly, of course,” she said and felt a rush of heat at the thought. “And you are going to make that possible.”
* * *
It was some days later and in another part of the country that the dandy found himself once again in a position to regain his financial status.
In fact, because of the proximity of his situation to that of the Earl of Dunkirk’s, he rather thought he could pull off each job and become rich beyond his dreams.
Dressed, as he thought, to the nines, he walked into the Red Lion. He seemed out of place as he minced through the galley of the reputable inn.
He wore his top hat low over his forehead and held a handkerchief to his nose, as though he found the smell of chicken cooking somehow offensive, and managed to hide some of his features.
He had taken a chance when he chose this place to meet with the blackguard Gypsy, but at least he could not be thought to be at the inn for anything but a pint and a bite to eat. After all, it was an obviously r
espectable establishment.
Wiping his hands on his white apron, the innkeeper came forward. The fop waved him off, saying he would return for a table in a moment. And then the high-fashioned gentleman continued to meander around a bit, before he hurriedly, after he made certain no one was looking his way, scurried down the corridor to the back exit.
He opened the rear door and found that it led him to a charming courtyard to where no doubt people would filter when the inn was overcrowded.
The courtyard was neat, set with two small tables and a few chairs, and it was quiet, as the galley had not yet filled to overflowing and no one else had found their way there.
He looked around for a moment and then with some relief saw the Gypsy, whose indefinitpression was stone cold. Warily he went towards him.
“Aye, then, I did the deed, and now I’ll be thanking ye for the rest of m’blunt,” the Gypsy said, glaring across at him.
This was a dangerous blackguard, and he did not want to bandy words or have a problem with him. However, he was low on cash and needed to stretch things out a bit longer until he could get his hands on more of the ready.
“You’ll get the rest when the job is completely done.” He sighed and brushed off an imaginary speck from his dark superfine coat.
“I’ll get it now, or I’ll cause trouble, I will, see if I don’t,” the Gypsy snapped while moving towards him threateningly.
The dandy had no doubt the Gypsy meant what he said. He took out a purse and handed it to him, saying, “There is some of what we agreed. The rest you will get when I have proof you have done all that I require. Remember, one week’s time, and we meet again. I will tell you then if it is safe to … dispose of the problem at that time.”
The Gypsy grumbled something incoherent and eyed the dandy. “Lookee ’ere and believe me that if I don’t get it all in due time, I’ll come for ye, I will.”
“I understand,” the dandy said, feeling a trickle of fear. He was going to have to find a way of getting his hands on more of the ready—if only he hadn’t spent so much of what he had already acquired for this work. For now, he had to get away from this villain.
He waved his handkerchief at the Gypsy as he started off and said, “We shouldn’t be seen together now, but we meet again in one week’s time—and you know where.”
~ Seven ~
THE EARL OF Dunkirk led his merry party into the courtyard of the Red Lion, looked about, and apparently satisfied, announced, “Aye then, I think this will do.”
Lady Bess glanced at the charming inn and, noting a window box of daffodils, smiled and said, “Oh, it is lovely.”
The earl was already off his horse and reaching for her waist. His hands on her sent a wicked but ever so delicious thrill up her spine. However, it was a short-lived sensation as he hurriedly set her on the ground and looked away to say that the ladies should go in and make themselves comfortable while he and Robby made certain their horses were properly cared for.
Donna announced that she was going to go and wash up, and Bess laughed to say she would be right behind her. However, instead of going immediately inside, she noticed a lovely little footpath that led towards a garden bed of herbs and went to have a look. While she was inspecting the various herbs, a brightly painted covered wagon of yellow and green caught her eye. It was parked near the L-shaped drive that led away from the courtyard of the inn and flanked a thick forest of trees, where it forked onto a narrow country road. The sight of the Gypsy wagon made Bess think a carnival was nearby, so she meandered towards it. However, just at that moment, coming from the back of the inn on another footpath was a Gypsy, and something about his appearance made her hesitate.
The Gypsy wore a dark scarf and a low, dark woolen cap pulled over his forehead. He grumbled angrily to himself as he approached his wagon and pulled open the painted wooden door.
Bess’s eyes opened wide as a boy—a young boy with his hands behind his back and something tied about his mouth—tried to push past him, but the Gypsy shoved him backwards, hard, and climbed in after him.
Outraged, Bess began to march down the footpath towards the wagon when a hand out of nowhere clamped down on her arm.
“You don’t want to interfere with a Gypsy and his family,” said the tall, lean man she turned her startled face to.
“Unhand me at once,” Lady Bess snapped incredulously. She could see by the extreme of his shirt points and the length of the tails of his cutaway superfine coat that he was a beau, or more to the point, a London dandy. He was thin, and she thought him unattractive, but that wasn’t what made her feel apprehensive. Something in his hazel eyes made her wary.
“I am sorry. I saw you headed in the direction of the Gypsy wagon and—”
“And what?” demanded the Earl of Dunkirk, arriving at this auspicious moment.
The earl reached for and took Bess’s gloved hand and pulled her in close. “I doona think that was cause enough to lay hands on a lady.”
Bess could see the threat sparkling in the earl’s blue eyes. Everything about him seemed threatening.
The dandy had, in fact, taken a nervous step back and with his gloved hands up, palms towards the earl, said, “No offense—I thought only to spare her a confrontation with that nasty fellow.”
“Did ye now, but I doona think that was yer place,” said the earl, looking towards the wagon, which had just pulled away. It moved slowly, pulled by two aged dark cob horses.
“Please, my lord.” Bess tugged at the earl’s hand, which still held hers. Believing he was going to start a row, she attempted to pull him away. “We should go inside and join Donna and Robby. We do not wish to draw attention.” She thought of the boy in the wagon and told herself she was making too much of it. What could she do? He was probably the Gypsy’s son and no doubt was being punished for some infraction.
The earl looked at her then, and she felt his gaze stroke her tenderly. What was going on between them, she wondered. It felt so real at times, and then at other times it felt as though he were merely doing the polite.
“Please,” she added as he hesitated, apparently bent on reading the dandy a lecture.
“Of course,” he answered her, dropping her hand and giving her his bent arm as he shot a glare full of daggers at the stranger. They left him at their backs and made their way inside.
The innkeeper came forward at once and, chattering pleasantly, showed them to the large round table where Robby was already munching on a sizeable loaf of bread.
The earl and Bess looked at one another and laughed before the earl saw her seated. He said softly near her ear, “I won’t have ye going off on yer own, lass, in a public establishment.”
Bess gasped. “You are not my father.”
“Thank the saints for that,” he returned on a laugh. “And even so, when ye are in my company in a public place, you will adhere to m’rules.”
She studied him a moment and then teased naughtily, “Can’t.”
“And why can’t you?” He bit the bait.
“Don’t know what they are, and, oh, I am starving as well. Robby, do pass the bread before you eat it all.”
* * *
Lady Bess stood back and quietly reviewed the scene. The fire in the library was at full burn, crackling and giving a warmth she could feel even where she stood near the panoramic window over the front lawn.
Her heart fluttered even more than it had all day, even more than on the ride home when the earl had flirted outrageously with her one moment and then with Donna the next, as though to show her that he could flirt with anyone he chose and that it meant nothing. If he dallied with her, that was all it was, dalliance.
She understood what he was doing. He didn’t wish to hurt her. He wanted her to see that flirting was just something he did. He was a rake and wanted her to understand that. Perhaps a part of her thought so, but a larger part of her did not.
He had perhaps behaved like a libertine, but she had seen some of his mind, and he did not think like
one.
Was she more than just a diversion to him? She wasn’t sure, but he did care; to some extent he did care. Something in his eyes, in the way his mouth curved when he looked her way, made her think he was more than just a wayward rogue and that she was more to him than just another flirt.
He had a servant bring in a punch bowl and a great number of ingredients into the library. Robby was hovering about it, determined to get it started and drink his fair share. Donna was wagging a finger at her husband when the earl suddenly took over.
He stepped forward, waving his hand. “Stand aside, children. Ye doona know a thing aboot the fine art of making punch, but I, now I do.”
His Scottish accent beat a trail to Bess’s heart, and a shiver went through her. She loved his voice, his accent, his manner of speech.
“But don’t forget the nutmeg,” stuck in Robby. “I like nutmeg.”
“Nutmeg,” Donna said, shaking her head, “will ruin it.”
Bess turned away from them. Her jumbled thoughts were lined with emotions she didn’t want to face. Suddenly, all she wanted was to be alone with the earl. It was more than coincidence that he had walked into her life now when she was so ready to be loved. All the times he had come to Searington, so near, and yet they had never met till now.
It was fate. She was sure of it.
She had always broken rules, and she was being completely immodest by allowing herself to want him the way that she did. She wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted to feel his lips press against her lips, part them, and why a woman should be thought a tart for wanting the man of her dreams was more than she could fathom. Men wanted, needed, took. Why shouldn’t a woman’s needs be fulfilled?
And if that made her a tart, so be it; she just didn’t care. She was ever honest with herself and simply saw no sense in denying that she wanted him lustily with or without the benefit of marriage.
She knew in that pivotal moment that she would let him take her to his bed and satisfy her as only he could. She wanted that. She wanted to taste him and know him in every sense. Faith, when had she descended into such wantonness? She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way.
